


The making of a conman

by 3rdThursday



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdThursday/pseuds/3rdThursday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How exactly did that WITSEC thing work? </p><p>Neal was three when the marshals took Ellen, Neal & his mom to St.Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Apartment

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing in terms of characters, just choosing to sit for a bit in the lives of characters I enjoy. Feedback always welcome. see chapter end notes for cannon references.

Ellen looked around the apartment. It wasn't much. Funny she still had a hard time thinking of herself as “Ellen”. She’d had to stop herself from introducing herself as Kathryn to her new neighbors. It had only been a couple of months. Transitional housing and now St. Louis. She supposed she would get used to it. She finished putting the last of the dishes away in the cabinet, crumpled the last of the packing materials into a ball and tossed them into the trash. A brief glance into the back courtyard revealed several old women sitting in their lawn chairs on the concrete patio. Patio was an exaggeration. The patio ran behind the length of the l-shaped building. 2 street entrances with 6 units for a total of 12 apartments. Well, 13 if you counted the illegal one the super used in the basement. 13 units and at least as many languages. Easy to blend in. Some families, some retirees. The cop in her grinned. And it was only a patio if the super didn't have his truck parked back there. She sighed and wondered if they could be happy here. Well, the “Brooks family,” at any length. Her apartment was about a half a mile away and pretty much the same right down to the furniture. She suspected the feds had a standard issue catalog. Montgomery Wards Department Store bruised and dented clearance. 

Mrs. Brooks, recent widow, sat on in the living room staring at the television set. Just staring. Ellen wondered if she should turn it on or if that would make any difference. There were two residents in the apartments. One a ball of energy and one well, one a bit faded. The transition had not gone well. The missus was on autopilot. Ellen noticed the mail on the table. A large envelope the marshals had delivered earlier. Divorce papers. That was fast. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sob and she quickly moved to comfort the other woman. It took a few minutes for the shaking sobs to stop. “James signed them, didn't he?” Ellen asked. The woman nodded and replied, “As much as I wanted it, needed it to be over. It is still hard. How can he not fight for us? For him?” She gasped a breath as she fought another racking sob. Ellen tried to be the comforting friend she knew was needed, but it was hard. The cop in her wanted facts. She wasn't the mushy type. It was a black and white decision. There was no room for wavering. Better it be done and quickly. Ellen only got mushy for one person, the ball of energy. 

Bang Bang bang! The ball of energy in question entered the room chasing imaginary bad guys. It was nearly 4:00, time for Adam-12 reruns. 

Ellen stood up and scooped up the whirlwind. She walked into the kitchen with him, asking, “time for cookies before your show?” Bright blue eyes framed by dark brown curls looked at her as his face split into a huge grin. She was glad that for all the sudden changes in the young boy’s life that cookies still had the power to make his day. The joy of being three years old. Then it occurred to her he was almost four. How hard was it going to be to explain to him that they had changed his birthday? She dropped him into a chair and asked how his army men had made out in the latest battle as she pulled down one of the plates. 

He enthusiastically described how the war was being won. The bad guys had the good guys surrounded and it looked like everyone was going to die but then they gained the high ground and were able to shoot the bad guys in the butt (giggle) and send them packing. Blinking at what surely would have been a plastic army man slaughter Ellen wondered momentarily where a three year old had picked up tactical details and macho phrasing. Then it occurred to her she could have heard that same summary from James. “Danny” was fascinated by death. Since the move he had focused in on one thing. Good guys fight bad guys and sometimes good guys die. Maybe it was better that James wasn't going to be coming around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon reference:   
> 4.3 Diminishing Returns - The Marshals took us to St. Louis


	2. The courtyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does a three year old perceive the changes in his life?

Yesterday, Ellen had promised that she would be back today. Danny was very excited about that. Ellen was his most favorite person in the world. Besides Mommy and Dad. Dad had been big and strong and he had saved a lot of people. Danny tried to remember that when he got mad. Mad that the other people were still alive and Dad wasn't here anymore. It was hard to be mad at people you didn't know, but he still got angry. Sometimes he kicked his pillow. Ellen said it was a good way to work off anger. Dad had said that - work off a head full of steam. He punched a wall once. Danny remembered the hole in the wall. 

Until Ellen came back Danny would have to take care of himself. Mommy was sad again. When she was sad she sat and stared. She said she was thinking. Danny thought sometimes too. He thought about how before he was Neal and how now he was Danny. He liked Danny because it was actually two names, Danny and Daniel. Mommy said his grown up name was Daniel Brooks. He wasn't supposed to talk about the baby name anymore. The ladies in the yard liked the name Daniel. They told him stories. Daniel in the Lion’s Den. He roared like a lion and they all laughed. They told him Daniel was kind and brave. He said that his Dad was kind and brave. Then he got sad and went back inside. He curled up on the bed next to Mommy and cried and he wasn't sure why.


	3. Le Petit Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Polyglot  
> pol•y•glot ˈpäliˌglät/Submit  
> adjective 1. knowing or using several languages. "a polyglot career woman" "polyglot and bilingual technical dictionaries"  
> noun polyglot; plural noun: polyglots 1.a person who knows and is able to use several languages.

Danny ventured out on to the back porch. Today had started out as a good day. They had waffles and sausage links. Aunt Ellen had brought them by last night. Mommy got up and showered and dressed and was brushing out her long brown hair when Danny came into the living room. She smiled and they talked about what they could do today. They could take the bus to the zoo. The car wasn't working. Uncle Jake had picked it up to get it fixed. Jake had been a friend of his father’s. Danny liked it when Jake came over. Jake would tell him police stories like the ones he watched on television. They would talk about being safe from strangers and police man stuff. 

So they would take the bus to the zoo. Only three weeks left of summer break and then Danny would be starting kindergarten. He was excited about school. There were a few kids in his building, but most of them were older. Middle school, high school a few babies, but no one close to his age. 

Now his mom was listening to the radio. Sitting on her bed and just listening. She was sad again. Danny tried pulling at her arm, wondering how she could be smiling and happy one minute and then just gone the next. The zoo would have been fun. He wandered out onto the porch. The old ladies were out in the back. They sat out in the sun. The old men sat in the shade on their porches. They didn't want to be confused with the old ladies they said. Danny giggled. He took his GI Joe action figure and went to climb the trellis in the back. It was kinda of rickety, but he could see over in to the other yard and almost reach the tree leaves. 

André Beauchamp looked at the small boy climbing up the trellis and shook his head. A sad case that family. The mother had lost her husband and now she was lost as well. He had seen it that way before. They had been here just over a year now. The tante tried, but she couldn't be here all the time. The boy was smart and stayed to himself much of the time. He helped the yard pigeons and kept out of trouble. One of them always seemed to be feeding him. He expected they missed their own grandchildren. Oh no! There he went, lost his grip and fell. Poor fool he was almost at the top. 

André came down from his porch and hurried over to the child. He was surprised he got to him before the yard pigeons did. He picked him up and set him on his feet. He dusted him off and asked him if he was ok. The boy nodded, but he didn’t speak or cry. “Where is your momma? Is your tante around?” André was startled at the color of the boy’s eyes. They were so blue. “What is tante? He asked.

André realized that he had switched some of his words into French. Must be getting old. "A tante is your auntie. Tante is the French word for Aunt. Is your aunt not around today?”

“No, she has aerobics class on Wednesdays. Says she is going to be the next Jane Fonda.” Danny only knew who Jane Fonda was because Ellen had said it when they saw her on television. He expected it meant she was going to be a TV star. André smiled. “I don’t think you should climb the trellis anymore today. Why don’t you come sit down, I will teach you a little more French.” Danny grabbed his GI Joe. “What is this?” André asked, “A doll? You are a boy, why do you play with dolls?”

“He isn't a doll, he is an action figure. His name is GI Joe and he is a real American Hero. He fights to protect the weak and the helpless and he doesn't let the bad guys win. He has an action grip and he can climb on trees.” André hadn't heard the boy put two words together before and now this? “I hope he has a better grip than you do. Ok, well come sit down and you can tell me all about him.” 

Danny settled himself in the chair with Joe on the fold out tray between him and Mr. Beauchamp. “Why do you speak French?”

“I speak French because I was born in France. France is around the world across the ocean. Many people speak many languages that are different from yours. You should try to learn as many as them as you can. See here, look at the yard pigeons,” he pointed to the old ladies in the yard. “All of these ladies were born in other countries, but they all came to the United States to have a better life. Now they are old and they sit in the sun and peck at things. Peck peck peck. This is why I call them yard pigeons.”

“I speak American so far and I could learn the others couldn't I?”

“Yes, if you continue to hang around the pigeons you will learn more languages than just your American English. This yard gives you the whole world. You must have the knowledge if you are going to be smart and strong when you grow up. Oh course French is best.”

“Why is French best Mr. Beauchamp?” Danny asked. 

“Because French is the language of love. You are young now, but soon you will be chasing the girls. French is the best language to speak of love. You will have them swooning at your feet.” Danny wrinkled his nose. 

“I don’t really know any girls Mr. Beauchamp. Just Holly who lives on the second floor and she is only a baby. She is two and a half.”

“And you are so old already?”

“I’m starting school in three weeks. And I already know how to read and I can tie my shoes by myself and everything.” André laughed.

“Ok, Mon Petit Prince. We will leave Holly to find her own sweetheart. Let us start with French so you can take over the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK it was really hard not to work, " And knowing is half the battle" into the story.
> 
> Cannon reference:   
> 4.1 Wanted- Neal Caffrey speaks 8 languages


	4. Kindergarten: An Artist is Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A New Breed of forger, technological virtuoso with a classical artistic foundation."

Kindergarten was fun and boring at the same time. Fun because there were kids to play with and lots of books to read and boring because the teacher wanted to read them to him. Mrs. Thiessen read too slowly. He asked if he could take the book home with him to finish. She said “we will have to see”, which he knew was adult speak for “no”. During nap time he couldn't sleep. She gave him a paper to draw and colored pencils. She even found a copy of Ed Emberly’s Book of Drawing Faces for him to look at, “but” she said “no noise”. The faces book was fun, but he had drawn all those before. He was bored. What else could he draw? 

He looked around for something else to copy. The colored pencils only had 12 colors, so the colors weren't the same, but he drew the pictures on Mrs. Thiessen’s wall calendar. They were like the swirly ballerinas that were on TV during Christmas. The dancers were boring, but he liked the music. He liked the music because it made his mom smile. When the bell rang for the next subject, gym, which every self-respecting kindergartener loved he abandoned his drawings and raced to be first in line. A sure thing since all the others still had to pick up and store their sleeping mats over in the bin on the other side of the room. They had races at gym. Danny was good at running. 

The children filed out the door, down into the hall and outside for their gym class. Mrs. Thiessen sighed as she saw them out the door. Budget cuts meant that the gym teacher had two classes of kindergarten at once for gym. She wasn't on yard duty today to help this week, that chore fell to the other teacher was along with the room aid they shared. She pulled down the screen and set up the projector for the next activity, a film entitled ‘the Happy Life of Mr. Leaf,” before sliding back into her chair to catch a quick breath. The transition from nap-time to gym was so quick. She was very glad that at least they would be going to the gym for winter sessions. The thought of fitting snow suits on 23 six year olds was enough to make her want to drink. As an afterthought she saw Danny’s drawings off to the side and got up to go and look at them. 

Mary Thiessen was amazed at what she saw. Danny had recreated with startling accuracy, six of the photographs from her calendar, Impressionist Artist: Degas – the dancers. She had seen him get up and was happy that he was careful not to make any noise. She figured that he had taken her wall calendar down because he had wanted to look at the pictures. She felt a rush, a thrill of discovering the next great artist. Then she laughed at herself. He was six. Don’t rush anything, tomorrow he may be eating paste. She thought about what she had read in his file. Bright boy, somewhat reserved. He didn't trust automatically the way most children his age did. His father had died during a robbery and the family had been forced to move. He lived with his mother and he had an aunt who was close by. 

Before becoming a teacher Mary had been an Art History major and for the first two years of college had dreamed of becoming the next great thing to hit Europe. Then reality set in and she recognized how hard it was to make a living as an artist. She caved to her parent’s wishes and switched to primary education. She hoped to get a place as an art teacher, but the only opening at the local school was in the kindergarten. Six years later she loved it – most of the time. 

The class romped back in full of energy. She got them settled down on the rug and started the film. She caught Danny’s eye and motioned him over to her desk. “Danny, did you draw these?” she asked. A very silly question he thought, a bit worried as he knew she had watched him draw them. “Yes. Why? Did I do something wrong?” “No dear, I think they are very good.” He smiled. “Do you remember how you drew them?” His brow furrowed as he concentrated on her question. An expression that was both out of place and adorable on his tiny face. Mary had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. “I just closed my eyes part way and drew around the light.” He demonstrated with a squished up face. Then he looked at her with trusting eyes. “Is it ok? Are you mad I took your calendar?” 

“You should have asked, but no, I’m not mad at you.” Relief flooded his face. “Would you like me to bring other pictures for you to draw?” Danny nodded happy not to be in trouble. “Why don’t you go sit down with the others and watch the movie and I will think about what other books I have ok?” Danny moved back to the other children, picking his way back to his spot on the rug. 

Mary idly wondered if she had any other colored pencils she could bring in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon references  
> 2.3 Copycat Caffrey - "Do you know how hard it is to make money as an art student doing art?"  
> 2.3 Copycat Caffrey -"New Breed of forger, technological virtuoso with a classical artistic foundation."


	5. The marshal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WITSEC Marshals are prepared with incident reports and screening details before being placed on assignment. They are expected to create rapport with the clients they protect while maintaining a professional distance. They are rotated on assignment so as to remain sharp in their protection detail. All precautions are taken to ensure the safety of their charges. 
> 
> Even they are not setup to handle a first grade old Danny Brooks.

Marshall Jake Thomason had just about had it. No, the assignment wasn’t bad as assignments went. Baby sit a couple of possible mob targets. Assignments rotated and boy was he waiting for his. Two years down, one to go. The clients were making him crazy. Parker challenged him just about every time he saw her. She was becoming a real pain in the ass. Just his luck to get a client who knew too much about the entire process. The mother was a basket case. He’d never seen anyone slide in to depression so bad. He probably spent more time over there than he should, but he wasn’t going to have her decide to suicide on his watch.

And the kid, the kid was a handful. Asking questions no six year old had a right to ask. Whoever gave that kid a library card was out of their every loving freaking mind and should be shot. “Why would you use a frontal assault on a raid instead of a perimeter cover? Did you know the mummies in Egypt were given passports so they could get through Durat to the Hall of Two Truths? They called it a Book of the Dead. Funny since they were already dead, hu? Did you know that when the dinosaur was set up in the Crystal Place in London, the guy who made it had a party inside it? Cool hu? Eating with dinosaurs! I’m going to London someday. And France, I want to go to France.” They had told him the kid was supposedly very smart, but he’d never have believed this. He left after an almost heated discussion with Parker over what to do about the missus. She was getting worse, not better. He promised to check in with them again at the end of the week.  
~  
First grade meant leaving Ms. Thiessen. Danny wasn’t sure how he felt about that. She had so many books that she was willing to share with him. She was right down the hall and he could come visit during recess if he wanted she said. She had a new book on watercolors she wanted to show him. That made him feel better. He already knew half of his class from last year. His new teacher was going to be Mr. Atkins.

They first day was lining up and being assigned into desks. Alphabetically boy girl boy girl. The desks had their names taped to them in print and in cursive letters. Danny was up front. Daniel Brooks. They still had a story rug and a cloak room. Danny smiled at the word cloak. Nobody wore cloaks anymore. Batman and Superman had capes not cloaks. Not even the police, but they wore uniforms so you knew they were the good guys. 

Mr. Atkins wrote his name, the day of the week and the date on the board. Along with the sentence, “I am enjoying my first day of first grade.” They all practiced copying it out on to thin sheets of practice paper. He asked them to write it three times. Danny was able to complete it quickly. He was used to copying out words for Mr. Beauchamp. Sitting there was boring. Then he tried to do it with his other hand. Not bad. Little sloppy. Then with the paper upside down. He decided that upside down wasn’t so hard. You just needed to look at the lines like they weren’t letters and copy them. Mr. Atkins walked down the rows and checked to make sure that he could read their names. Then they were given books. Lots of books. Now it wasn’t just worksheets it was books as well!

Danny was thrilled. A Math book! A Reading book! A trip to the school library. Two books to check out. He wasn’t sure how he was going to carry them all home. He carefully wrote is name on the inside of the text books. Mr. Atkins explained how book covers were made. Danny was going to have to wait until Ellen came over. He didn’t think they had any paper shopping bags at home. Mr. Atkins asked him if he understood what he was supposed to do and he nodded. He didn’t like to talk in class a lot. Mr. Atkins explained that workbooks would arrive before Friday. 

The week passed very quickly. Danny was disappointed because while he got to learn new things, some things were taken away and there were rules. Lots of rules. Sitting quietly was one of Mr. Atkins’ rules. Danny didn’t really have a problem with that rule. He kept quite because Uncle Jake had told him that it was better not to draw attention to yourself. He couldn’t be a show off if he was a secret agent. He liked the idea that he was a secret agent. No one would suspect that he had super powers. Aunt Ellen told him always to do his best no matter what. His mother said he was smarter than everyone, smarter than even his father who was a hero. Then she got sad again and Danny was sorry the argument had ever come up. 

Friday afternoon the promised workbooks came. A math workbook and a spelling workbook. The spelling one looked a bit babyish. Danny knew most of the words already. The math book had new stuff in it. That would be fun. Mr. Atkins had them open the books and start the first page before the bell rang. He told them to not worry about finishing, just to get as far as they could. He would show then the rest later.

Danny raced home to find Ellen in the kitchen. She had picked up some groceries and was just putting them away as he let himself in. She “oooed” and “ahhhed” appropriately over the books. When he had put them away, they sat on the porch and talked about the week, his mom, and what to do over the weekend. Aunt Ellen had a date with one of the men she had met at her gym. He was a nice guy and his name was Richard. Danny wanted to know if he wore tights. “What? Where ever did you get that idea?” she asked. 

“I saw the aerobics guy on television, you know with the big fuzzy hair? He had on tights, but he wasn’t a girl. I thought only girls wore tights.” Ellen thought a moment and then started to laugh. 

“No, I am not dating Richard Simmons! Anyway we are going to visit some friends of his and then have dinner with them so you won’t see me until Sunday afternoon.”

“I have home work so I’ll be busy. Important stuff you know. I will make sure that I have it all done by then. Uncle Jake is coming Sunday too, we are going to be secret agents.” Ellen rolled her eyes, she could do without the marshal. Sometimes Danny forgot she was a cop and only wanted to talk super hero stuff with Uncle Jake. He so missed his father. He wanted a man to look up to. Lord knows what he was picking up from the retirees in the backyard.  
~  
The weekend was lovely. It had rained early, but cleared up before they even left. Ellen finally had a chance to wear the new blouse she had picked up at Carson Pirie Scott, Richard had been the soul of a gentleman, she had loved his friends and they even got to spend some time row boating on a local lake. She knew that there was a danger in being involved with someone. Was aware that at some point she may slip something, but she wasn’t worried about it at this stage. Nothing would slip. After all she had made detective faster than any woman on the force. She was smart and was dam good at her job. All facts that made this existence increasingly frustrating. Danny was the real deal, but she hadn’t been prepared for her partner’s wife to go downhill. Hill? Some days she would give anything to be Katheryn Hill again. Even living back in DC with someone gunning for her. She almost missed the Cagney & Lacey jokes. Even with her experience she wasn’t prepared for the for the crying child she encountered or the yelling. She sighed. The Marshal.

All eyes turned to her and the room fell silent when she entered the room. “What? “She asked into the silence. Jake handed her a workbook. Math Adventures Grade One. “So, what is the problem? It's a math book.”

“Just look at it” was Jake’s exasperated reply. Ellen did. It was compete. All of it. The entire 132 pages. She recognized Danny’s neat hand writing. She was torn between pride at his accomplishment and the problem of how to explain it. 

“Did you finish the whole thing? This weekend?” Danny nodded. 

“Mr. Atkins said to get as far as we could. I didn’t think it was wrong. It rained a little in the morning so I just started and then it was fun so I just kept going…” he trailed off, not sure what he had done wrong. He liked numbers. 

Ellen looked at Jake with a smile. “Did you check his work? Is it right, or was the book too hard?” 

Jake shot her a dirty look. “Yes, I did and yes, he did it right. All of it. How are we going to explain that to his teacher? This isn’t exactly low profile Parker!” Ellen wasn’t putting up with it. 

“Lower your voice. He has done nothing wrong.” She sat down turned to Danny. “Do you remember when you said you wanted to be a secret agent and not let anyone know you were super smart?” 

“Yes.” Said a very little voice. 

“Well, Jake is upset that everyone will know how smart you are and you won’t be able to be a secret agent when you get bigger. So from now on how about you do just what the teacher asks and maybe a little bit more, ok? Next time how about you don’t finish the whole book at once? You are not in trouble. Why don’t you go put this in your school bag and we can walk over to Kentucky Fried Chicken for a bucket. Uncle Jake is buying. The Cardinals have a game against the Bills this afternoon. We can watch some football.” Danny thought that was a good idea. He stopped at the doorway. 

“I didn’t finish all of the spelling book.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon details  
> 1.1 Pilot - Neal is very good at math  
> 2.5 Unfinished Business -Neal is very good at math


	6. Spring Musical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even after 4 years in prison, Neal was still the best and Alex still telegraphed her marks. How did Neal pick up this talent? Not something that is taught in school? Or was it?

Ms. Carol was excited when the school board approved her choice of a play for the spring musical. She loved the songs and it allowed for a large cast, something every important. The more children involved, the harder the work, but the happier the parents. The performance was going to be the talk of the talk of the teacher’s Lounge, she could just see it now. She hummed her way down the hall and back to her classroom.  
~  
Danny loved school. First was access to books and people who would answer questions. Then there were his friends. Lastly there was breakfast and lunch. His mom wasn’t the best at getting up in the morning and he’d had plenty of days where he was on his own for food. The school meal program that Ellen had signed him up for took care of breakfast and lunch. Milk, cereal to be eaten in the box, an apple and a juice. Basic, but it did the job.

The year had started out rough. He was late 5 times in three weeks. After some experimentation – clocks, fake road construction, he managed to get figure out how to get on the buses. First he attempted to just follow an adult on and the drivers thought he was with a parent. That worked a couple of times. When he got caught and the bewildered adult in question indicated that they had no idea who this small boy was, he pretended to be lost. He had started out tall for his age, but skinny. His age mates had caught up to him and now he was just scrawny. That had worked a couple of times. 

It was the lost buss pass that had given him the idea. It had been dropped by a gentleman getting off the bus before Danny. He grabbed it and looked at it carefully. It was a heavier paper, almost cardboard. Different colors for different months. The print was basic. It took him two weeks to have a working sample, but it worked like a charm. The bus driver didn’t even blink just waved him on. 

Danny sat at the lunchroom table, idly drawing in his sketch pad, finishing his breakfast. Bored he started reading the notices on the bulletin board. The school was going to be having a musical and all students second grade and above we invited to try out for parts. Many student were already going to be part of the play through their music classes, but speaking parts were available through auditions. Danny like to sing, but he’d never been in play before. It might be fun.  
~  
“Who will buy this wonderful feeling…? Who will buy…?” Danny sang lightly under his breath. It was Saturday morning and he was reviewing his math homework in the kitchen. Math was fun and easy, but he wanted to get it all done early so he could go out later. Hector was going to stop by this afternoon. Hector was his new ‘uncle.’ Uncle Jake had moved to the East Coast. Somewhere in New Jersey. Danny knew his dad had been a hero and that he had lots of friends. Every now and then his dad’s friends would check up on him and his mom. And Aunt Ellen. Aunt Ellen didn’t think much of his dad’s friends, but she had been a cop once herself so she knew a lot about their work. She talked about doing security work. She had been taking additional classes at the college. 

“What are you singing Danny?” his mom asked. She stood by the door. Danny saw that she had changed her clothes. Almost looked like she had brushed her hair. 

“The school is doing a musical. I’m going to be in the chorus. We have three more weeks of practices and then there will be a couple of performances. Maybe you can come?” She smiled and moved to sit across from him. When she didn’t say anything he continued. “It takes place in old time England. There is a kid who is an orphan and he runs away from the people who took him from the orphanage. While he is living on the streets he meets these kids and they help him out and he starts to help them out, only he gets in trouble.” She was already losing interest he could tell. “Well, we are going to do it once for the school and once for the parents and then once for whoever wants to come. Do you think Aunt Ellen and Hector will want to come?”

“I’m sure they will want to come. We will have to see.”

“I made waffles. Did you want me to make you some?”

“I think that would be nice.” Danny got up and moved quickly to put waffles in the toaster. He hoped it was going to be a good day.  
~  
Vice Principal Dekay sat back in his chair heavily. After a School Board meeting Principal Rebhorn has asked that he personally follow up on the issue. The spring musical had been a rousing success. The kids loved it, the parents loved it. The open performance even made over $300 for the school. It was the after effects of the show that were now having a negative effect. Hell, he loved the show and even he hadn’t foreseen this happening. Publicity nightmare. Despite his best efforts, he began humming under his breath, “You've got to pick-a-pocket or two, boys…You've got to pick-a-pocket or two.” Who knew a bunch of boys would decide to take up pick pocking based on a grade school musical? Now wallets were disappearing left and right. All the result of a “bet you can’t” from a fifth grader. Just yesterday his wallet had appeared in the library book drop, intact. He had no idea that it was even gone. He sighed and looked over the list of suspects. Some of them were in the second grade. Good lord. Might as well start now. He hit the intercom for the front office. 

“Ms. Jones, would you ask the teachers of second graders on that list I gave you to send the boys down?” Then following her response, he added, “let me know when they all get here please. And tell them no talking while they are waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon details  
> 1.6 All in - Neal steals Peter's wallet  
> 1.11 Home Invasion - Neal chides Alex on telegraphing her marks  
> 2.3 Copycat Caffrey - Neal provides details on how to pick a pocket  
> 2.13 Countermeasures - Neal can sing?  
> 4.10 Vested Interest - FBI conference, Identity Theft session


	7. The Buono ragazzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny runs an errand for one of his neighbors and is introduced to the world of the pool hall.

The old man called down into the yard from the balcony. “Danny, you a good boy. Can you do an errand for me?” 

“Sure Mr. Rafello, what do you need?” Danny looked up from his sketch pad. He’d spent most of the summer practicing his shading like Mrs. Thiessen asked him. A break wouldn’t hurt. Besides, Danny liked Mr. Rafello. He lived with his wife on the second floor of the West End of the building. He smelled like wine. Or as Mr. Rafello said, “I smell like the hills of Basilicata in the morning.” Danny understood that was a place in Italy, but he’d sure never been there. Mrs. Rafello gave Danny toasted bread with tomatoes, garlic and oil on it. Danny wasn’t crazy about the leaves, but Mrs. Rafello laughed at him. “Piccolino, it is just basil and it will put hair on your chest”. Danny wasn’t sure he wanted hair on his chest. Maybe when he was nine. 

“I have something for Michael Rizzo, you know who Michael is yes?” Danny nodded. Mickey was tall and skinny, wore sleeveless undershirts without a shirt and didn’t like to be called Michael. He was usually at the pool hall down from the school. Danny walked by the pool hall when he missed the bus home. The windows were painted up from the ground about four feet, but you could see around the paint. “Can you take this envelope down to Michael? He is down by the pool hall over by the school”. Danny knew it was a bar, not really just a pool hall. He could see it through the windows. Danny knew what alcohol was already. Mr. Chambers on the third floor was a drunk. The ladies in the yard weren’t sure how he got up to his apartment as drunk as he got. Danny passed him asleep in the hallway once. He stunk. 

“Yes, I can take it over to him”. He scrambled up the stair and reached for the envelope from Mr. Rafello. Mr. Rafello folded it over and stuck it in Danny’s front pocket. “Don’t you give this to anyone but Michael, you got it?” “Yes, Mr. Rafello.” Danny left his sketch pad on the bench and headed over to the hall. 

The bar was tall and wooden with mirrors behind the shelves of alcohol. There were several booths along the wall and a few odd tables spread throughout the hall. Towards the back there were several pool tables where about a dozen young men crowded around. A pass through to the pizza parlor next door was on the far left wall. Ceiling fans did little to clear the cigarette smoke. A juke box pounded out a song about Purple Rain. The smoke made Danny’s eyes burn. He searched faces for Mickey.

“Hey kid you can’t be in here.” The man behind the counter called to him. Danny looked back and said, “I’m looking for Mickey Rizzo.” The barman looked over the kid standing in the doorway surprised the kid hadn’t just scattered. The kid faced him down. Damm if the kid didn’t have the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. “You friends with Mickey kid?” He said, amused by the notion. “No, just looking for him.” The barman started to come around the counter to chase the kid off when the kid spotted Mickey in the back and took off for the back table. “Hey kid stop right there!”

Danny got as far as the pool table before the barman caught his shirt and started hauling him back towards the door. “Mr. Rizzo, I have something for you!” All conversation stopped at the table. Mickey looked over at the struggling kid Joey had collared. He signaled to Joey to release him. The kid straightened his shirt and glared at Joey. “I told you I have business with Mr. Rizzo.” There was some muttering from the table crowd over the ‘Mr. Rizzo’, but a glance back shut that up quickly. 

Mickey had to admire the kid’s spunk. Couldn’t have been more than 8 years old and standing up to Joey. Kid had some guts. He needed a haircut, but other than that looked like any other kid from the neighborhood. “So, you got business with me munchkin?” he asked. The kid looked at Joey again and then back to Mickey. 

“Mr. Rafello, he asked me stop by and bring you something.” Mickey laughed. The old man had a messenger. “So you know old Rafello hu? What does the old man have for me now? Need to lay something down on the ponies?” Danny wasn’t sure what he meant, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope that Mr. Rafello had given him. On the outside of the envelope it said ‘Marquis Queen in the fifth for $50.00’. He handed it to Mickey. 

Mickey looked it over and smiled, sliding the envelope into his pocket. “You a buono ragazzo kid helping Mr. Rafello out like that. You know what that means?” Danny nodded. Italian. He knew it meant good boy. Mrs. Rafello called him a good boy when he helped her with her laundry. “Joey, give the kid a drink for being such a good boy.” 

Joey rolled his eyes in a long suffering way and lifted Danny onto a bar stool. He moved behind the bar and fixed a Shirley Temple cocktail. He put it on the bar before the small boy. “Ever seen one of those kid?” he asked. The kid scrunched up his face. “It looks like a girly drink. Can I just have a beer please?” Joey laughed. “Hey, Mickey, did you hear that? Little blue eyes wants a beer!” the entire group clustered around the pool tables burst into laughter. Mickey walked over to where Danny sat on the stool. Kid looked pathetic with his legs dangling in air. He leaned over on the bar to look the kid in the face. 

“Listen kid, I’m going to give you some advice. One. You are too young to be drinking beer. It makes you stupid and you are too young for that. You can do plenty of stupid things without beer. Two. Don’t ever look a gift horse in the mouth. Somebody gives you something out of the kindness of their heart, don’t go looking for something to be wrong with it. You don’t go being a punk complaining, you got it?” The kid nodded. “Now try your drink, it is called a Shirley Temple. It has a ton of sugar in it and you’ll like it. Tell Mr. Rafello I have his...his order. I’ll let him know how it turns out.” He went back to his game. 

Danny sipped his drink and watched the pool game. Joey leaned over. “You ever see the game up close kid?” “No,” Danny replied, “just through the glass.” Joey made a mental note to have the front windows repainted. “The game is to try to knock the balls in the holes with the stick. Only you don’t knock all the balls in, just yours.” Joey watched the kid, wondering how much he understood. 

“I got it,” the kid said. “You hit in the other ones and you are scoring for the other team.” Joey smiled. Smart kid, he thought. Maybe too smart. The kid’s drink hit bottom and he slurped. Joey took the glass back. “Alright get outta here - unless you have more business with Mr. Rizzo?” 

“No, I’m good. Thank you for the drink. It was fantastic.” He hopped off the stool and looked the hall over again, nodding to himself before walking out. He’d be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon reference:  
> 3.15 Stealing Home - Neal is very good a playing pool


	8. The marshal take two...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third grade has started, but there is more to life than books and numbers. What happens when Danny learns something he's not ready to know yet?
> 
> feedback always welcome.

His brow furrowed as he thought about how this was going to work. He wanted to go down to the pool hall and see if Mickey would let him play, but “Uncle” Hector had told him to hang around since he was going to be coming by this afternoon. maybe he'd come early. He looked out the back door screen at his mother. She was seated in her fold out lounge chair, sun glasses covering her eyes and the magazine open to the same page as before. He watched her closely to make sure she was still breathing. Yep. Good. Slow easy steady breaths that told him she had already fallen asleep. It was better that she slept here on the porch or in her room. Last time she went for a walk she didn’t come back. He and Ellen had found her asleep in the park. Boy, was Aunt Ellen mad at Hector. She yelled for like an hour. Danny didn’t mind looking out for his mom, but part of him was mad, because he knew she should be looking out for him. He wasn’t sure what he would do if it wasn’t for Aunt Ellen. 

His mom had a really good week, heck it had been a really good summer. She had been working part time at the museum which meant he got to go for free. He could sit in the corner and draw for hours. He got to sit on on the lectures. The museum even had classes to take. They got a discount on the cost because his mom worked there. He got to sit on on the lectures. The adults ignored him. Joey had told him "Be quiet when you need to be kid, but there are times you can just hide in plain sight." He just sat in the back. They assumed he was someone's kid. Sometimes he wanted to asks questions, but mostly he just listened. He had a list for Ms. Thiessen.

Now that school was starting his mom's part-time job was ending. They didn’t have as many tourist at the museum so they didn’t need the extra help. They wanted her back for the holidays though. She had been really happy that they wanted her to come back. She liked working when she could. With the job ending, she was going to be around a lot more. They were going to go shopping for school clothes and supplies this weekend. He should have gone two weeks ago, but it just hadn’t worked out. 

Danny looked over the stuff the school had sent home with him on Friday night. Third graders had a lot of options. All the new school after school activities, soccer, cub scouts, swim club at the YMCA. Soccer meant driving or taking the bus. He knew getting a ride was not always guaranteed. He didn’t want to be using his bus pass over and over again. They were pretty good copies, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Cub Scouts might be fun. Get to hang out with a bunch of the kids from school. Maybe swimming. He tried to think of all the reasons his mom should let him do any of the after school programs. Swimming was the only one he could come up with a good reason to do. Everybody had to know how to swim. Maybe he could get that one to work. He liked the water. 

He looked at the home work he had for this weekend. Baby stuff. He had expected third grad would be harder. He was glad most of the teachers let him keep his sketch book out beside his school work. Ms. Votsis his second grade teacher had told him at least it stopped him from drawing on the margins of his assignments. Even she had given him harder stuff for homework. He wanted more information faster. He got bored and then jumpy. Drawing helped him think. Painting was better, but harder to do in class. School was fun, but he sometimes thought he was learning more during the summers. Mr. Rafello, Mr. Beauchamp, even the from the clerk at the grocery store told him something new every time he saw them. He knew how to play pool and was learning how to read people from Mickey and Joey. He still wasn’t sure what to do about Mr. Hector I’m not your Uncle Vasquez. Danny pulled the wallet out and looked at it again. Marshal Hector Vasquez. It started thinking about what Uncle Hector had said. About what Uncle Jake had said. The more he thought about it the angrier he got.  
~  
Hector Vasquez had never been so frustrated in his life. He had looked everywhere for his badge. After much debate he had decided to go back to the Brooks’ apartment to see if he had left it there. He shuddered to think about having to report a lost badge. Some marshal, can’t keep track of his own credentials. He let himself in through the front and called out. The kid answered from the back of the apartment. He found Danny in the kitchen and the missus asleep in her lawn chair on the porch. Danny had flyers spread out on the table. He handed him one from the YMCA. Hector sat down and looked it over. “You want to take swimming lessons kid? Yeah, you are old enough. Twice a week? You think your mom can get you there? Can Ellen help?”

“No,” Danny said looking at him very deliberately with those piercing blue eyes. “You are going to take me.” The kid almost looked angry. Hector smiled. “I am? What makes you think that?”

“Because I’ll tell everyone what a liar you are.”

“Why am I a liar? Liar about what?” Hector leaned forward the table. 

“You’re not a friend of my dad’s. You never were.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You told me to tell my teachers at school that my mom wasn’t feeling well for parent teacher night. You had me say it over and over again until I could tell it exactly the same. In first grade when I finished the math book over the weekend, Uncle Jake came up with a story to tell my teacher how I lost it. He had me say it over and over again. Until I knew it by heart. Only Uncle Jake didn’t say he was a friend of my dad’s he said he knew my dad. It’s not the same. Your answers don’t match Aunt Ellen’s when you tell stories. And you tell the same story the same way every time. It never changes. Like you were telling a lie.” Danny tossed the wallet between them. “Marshal Hector Vasquez.”

Hector was torn between relief and amusement. Amusement at getting called out by a kid who wasn’t even quite nine years old. God the guys in the office would love that, sooo much better than having to get his badge replaced. He internally grimaced. He ran through several scenarios in his mind on how to respond. None seemed good. His mind wandered. The kid wasn’t having any of it. 

“Who was he? Was he a mob boss? Was he a good guy who knew too much? What did my dad see? Why did they kill him? I watch the news, I see television. I know the Fascist took over Italy. Don’t lie to me. I’m not a little kid anymore.” 

Hector blinked at the sudden rush of questions and did a double take at the fascism comment until he remembered one of the retirees was from Italy. He had long understood Jake Thomason’s frustration with the depressed mother, the confrontational Parker and the quick thinking kid, but this was the first time that the kid had turned the tables on him. It was not a comfortable feeling. He went with his gut.

“Calm down, It’s not like that, this is life - not a movie” he began lamely. “Where did you find my wallet?” The kid got a stubborn look in his eye. “I didn’t find it. I stole it.” Hector suddenly remembered last year’s musical and the fuss that had followed. Oliver! In his mind, his report had just gotten longer. The Brooks case file doubling in size in his mind.

“Usted es un mentiroso!” Danny shouted at him. Hector rolled his eyes despite himself, add Spanish to the file. Kid was a sponge. He grabbed Danny’s shirt and half pulled him over the table until their eyes were level. 

“First off your dad was a cop and he did save people. He was a detective, a good one. He did see things he wasn’t supposed to see. A cop’s life is dangerous. Some of it boring, but some of it like what you see on TV. It didn’t end well for your dad. At some point you moved. And cops look after their own. Got it? We don’t leave anybody alone that needs looking after. So yeah, I check up on you. One of us always checks up on you. It’s part of being a cop. Second, you think you can blackmail me kid? Is that what your hero father would want from his son?“ Hector let go and Danny and the kid slid back into his chair. 

“I think you should leave now” said a quiet voice from the doorway. Both looked to see Danny’s mom on the other side of the screen door. Hector didn’t say a word, just picked up his wallet and left. Danny didn’t know what to say. Much to his horror he felt his lip begin to tremble. He bit it and willed the tears away, but his eyes began to fill anyway. It was much easier to be angry at Hector then face his mom. She came in and picked him up from his chair and sat back down with him on her lap. Danny started crying, slow tears pouring down his face and then big gasping sobs. “”I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He said over and over again crying into her shoulder. She shushed him and rubbed his back, saying, “Your father was a hero, never forget that. He died protecting other people.”

Today the missus had a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon references  
> 1.1 Pilot - Neal translates the seized books from Spanish, Snow White and her Seven Little men.'  
> 1.14 Out of the Box - Neal Swims with Alex  
> 2.15 Power Play - Neal tells Sara he swims for exercise  
> 4.1 Wanted - Neal swims for exercise  
> 4.3 Diminishing returns - My mom told me my Dad died a hero


	9. Fourth Grade Begins

Will was surprised to see the young boy by the library drop box. He was unloading books from his backpack into the returns bin carefully making sure each slid down and landed with a soft thump into the cart below. Most of the books were much bigger that he would have expected for a child of his age. He shrugged it off figuring the boy was dropping off the entire family’s items. That was until he saw the text books included. Algebraic Foundations, Geometrical Puzzles, Impressionist Artists: Cezanne – the Watercolors, the unauthorized biography of Minnesota Fats. Wow, he thought, some family. “Do you need help with those?” he ask coming up to the drop box.

“No thanks, Mister. I got it.”

“Big books.” He commented.

“Yeah, it was along summer. I get bored without something to read.”

He smiled. “Well school is starting soon and you will be busy. Are you going to Washington?”

The kid looked him over suspiciously. He continued, “My name is Mr. Garson. I am going to be teaching at Washington this year.” The kid’s eyes seemed to stare right through him. He looked him over before answering. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“He won’t be paying attention though, he will be drawing. Danny always draws in class.” Said a girl roughly the same age. The boy turned and grimaced. “Brittany Nicole how nice to see you. Did you want to meet one of our new teachers?” he gestured to Will and stepped back. “This is Mr. Garson, he will be teaching at Washington.” Will was amused at the sudden flip from wary child to host. Shifting attention from himself to the adult. 

“Mr. Garson what classes will you be teaching?” Brittany Nicole asked all smiles for a prospective teacher. Both children turned to him with interest.

“I’ll have a fourth grade homeroom and I’ll be teaching science and math for the fourth and fifth grades. Maybe I’ll see you two there?” The girl nodded and then ran off as her mother called her to leave, only stopping to wave back at him. The boy had the grimace on his face again. 

“I take it you don’t like her?” He asked.

“No, she used to make fun of me in second grade. I had a gap in my teeth.” Will smiled. 

“I’m sure she is past that. You know, you can catch more flies with a little bit of honey than vinegar.” At the boy’s puzzled look, he continued, “Try being nice to her instead of frowning. Next time you see her, look her straight in the eye and smile. You’d be surprised at the reaction you can get.” Danny had notice that reaction with the yard pigeons, but never with kids his own age. 

“I don’t know that it will help. We haven’t ever gotten along.” Will sensed that this kid wasn’t going to be easy to convince, so he changed the subject. “So which book was yours?”

“Hu?”

He pointed to the book drop, “Are you the math genius, a biography nut or an artist in training?”

The boy shrugged. “A little of all I guess. Math is easy. The rules are simple. You learn the rules and you can figure out just about anything. Pool is fun. You can set a trick shot up without anyone knowing it and totally fool the guy you are playing.”

“Going to be a pool shark are you?”

“No, I’m going to be cop. Or an artist, but I need to keep my options open.”

“Something to fall back on?”

“Yep. What would you be if you couldn’t be a teacher?” 

Startled by the question Will paused. “Not sure, I’ve never really thought about it. I’ll have to get back to you on that. Will I see you in class?” the boy nodded. 

“On Monday. Two days away.” Will was surprised that the boy seemed wistful. Most kids hated the end of summer. 

“Do you know which room you are in?”

“Fourth grade, room 204. Teacher yet assigned. Figure it will be you then.”

Will nodded. “It probably will be then”. 

“I’ll see you there.” The boy skipped down the steps and out the door without looking back. That was when Will realized he didn’t know the kid’s name. Danny the little girl had called him. 

Will looked over the files of his incoming students that night. There in the midst of the files sat Danny’s. Daniel Brooks. Last years’ school picture smiled up at him. Grades good for the most part. Parents rarely attending conferences or open house. Not much participation in school activities. A mention of a school play that went wrong. He made a mental note to ask one of the other teachers about that, the details were a bit sketchy. A glowing report from Mrs. Thiessen his kindergarten teacher. Over all the remarks had the same theme. 

Bright boy, somewhat reserved. Not preforming up to his potential. Could be a class leader, but prefers not to draw   
attention to himself. Often distracted in class. Problems at home. His father deceased. Mother and paternal aunt involved. 

None of that seemed like the boy he had met at the library. Will wondered what could be done to get Danny to step up a bit. How could he get him engaged in science or math? Will though about the lesson plans and the activities he had set up to keep the kids interested. Maybe introduce ciphers earlier than he intended? He’d have to see.


	10. Focus Daniel, Focus!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny finds champions everywhere. Sometimes you just need a reminder to remain focused.

Marsha Barrigan, cafeteria supervisor was working behind the line today. She made sure she did it about once a month, if not more often. She had spent years working in dive restaurants while she went to college. A double major in Pediatric nutrition and Culinary Management with a minor in African Studies. But it all paid off. She was hired on at Washington Elementary as the cafeteria supervisor six months after graduation. 

She had expected working with cooks who didn't know what they were doing, servers who came in late or wanted to work special schedules. She had expected to review budgets and negotiate with the government suppliers on her approved contract list. She had expected the not so hidden resentment of being a black woman in a predominately white school. And in a management role at that – go figure. She remembered smugly the first school board meeting when one of the PTA moms had asked her what she intended to do about the quality of meals they were serving. The woman obviously thought she’d back down. Her presentation of a comprehensive meal plan within guidelines and budget had set the woman back on her heels. Marcia wasn't backing down for anyone. She had worked too hard. She had a ten year plan that had her in charge of the school district lunch program. Besides it was 1986, the PTA mom needed to get a life. 

What she hadn't expected was the feeling of loss in not interacting with customers. It was like a huge gaping hole in her life. After a bit of reflection she decided that she didn't need to stay behind a desk fighting budgets and employee schedules. Every chance she had she got out among the workers handing out her interpretation of mystery meatloaf with macaroni and cheese. The kids were great. She was able to try new things and they always gave her honest feedback. Friday cookie day was a huge hit. She already had her favorites for the year. Speaking of...

“Daniel, what are you eating today? Daniel? Makini Daniel!”

Danny blinked, he had been thinking about the correct angle for the pool trick shot he had learned about in of the books he had read over the summer. Wondering if he could get it to work without climbing on the table. “Pole Shangazi, Pole. Just the macaroni and cheese today, please.” 

She smiled at his use of the Swahili words. The boy was a caution alright. Picked up everything anybody told him. Good memory that one. She wasn't fooled. Something in her was tickled at the blue eyed cherub in front of her speaking the language of her long forgotten ancestors. She shook her head and thanked her 1960s radical parents for the mandatory lessons. She hadn't thought that it would come into play in the real world, but it had been a fun conversation starter in college, helped her blow through her minor with top marks and apparently captured the attention of young boys with an interest in African Art. Who knew?

“Pole Shangazi? Oh so now you try to sweet talk me, is that right? Better that you should pay attention to where you are and what you are doing. You are going to get hurt someday, walking around with your head in the clouds. You need to stay focused if you are going to succeed.” He looked so crestfallen she relented. “Eat your lunch and I'll give some more new words on Friday.” He smiled back at her. She gave him meatloaf anyway. 

She looked up at the next child in line and internally sighed. There were kids she already knew she didn't like as well. She knew what the kid was going to say, the same thing he had said to her every day for the last six weeks no matter where he saw her. She really hated that commercial. 

“And what would you like today? “ She asked.

“Where’s the beef?” came the response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, trying to work Swahili in was a bit of a challenge.


	11. What does a fake ID look like?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bus passes re one thing, but what if you needed to be someone else?

Saturday Morning

Saturday morning found Joey wiping down the counters when he spotted the IDs he’d pulled last night. Fakes, and bad ones at that. Drinking was overrated. An odd theory for a bartender. “Man,” he thought, “If you were going to have a fake ID at least get some self-respecting forger to make it for you. These are horrible.” Usually a Friday night yielded a lot of Illinois ID’s, some Iowa. He saw a New York one once. One moron even tried to uses his driver’s learner’s permit once. He shook his head. Idiots.  
Danny was refilling the napkin holders. For every couple of chores he did Joey would let him play a game of pool. Well, if there weren't paying customers anyway. If there were customers he had to settle for a Shirley Temple.

“Hey kid want to see a really bad fake IDs?” Danny abandoned the holders and scrambled up on to a bar stool by Joey.   
“Everyone has to have an ID. Adults anyway. Most people have their driver’s licenses. It proves they are old enough to drink, cash checks, stuff like that. These, these are really bad fakes.” He pulled out his own and put it next to the others on the counter. “Tell me what you see. Start with the obvious and work from there.”

Danny looked at the ones spread out over the counter and picked up Joey’s to look it over then compare it to the others. He could see the obvious mistakes right away. “The printing on this one is blurry. The letters should be better looking. I don’t think Alaska would print it blurry. That one has Missouri spelled wrong. The plastic on this one is bubbly. It should be smooth.”  
Joey smiled. The kid had a good eye. He laid another ID down on the counter. “Now here is another obvious one. Look at the birthday.” Danny laughed. 

“You had a 132 year old man come in for a beer? He doesn’t look bad for his age.” 

“Lying is an art kid. If you are going to lie then keep it simple. The more details you add the easier it is to trip yourself up if someone calls you on it. Saying you are from Alaska when you have never been there is an easy way to get yourself in trouble. Not knowing how to spell Missouri is another way. When they say you get what you pay for they mean it. Forgery is an art. Some people can do it, some people can’t. This is cheap knock off work. Better to pay for a higher quality and not get caught.” 

“or at least stay out of your bar.” Danny replied. He picked up the bubbly one. Other than the bubbles it looked pretty good. Joey took it from him and put it in with others. Danny thought of his bus passes. If the city decided to put them in plastic he would be in trouble.

"If you were going to use a fake ID you’d at least need to remember to avoid the basic mistakes. I’ve seen kids come in with IDs that are still warm from the laminator, wearing the same clothes they took the picture it.” 

“Where would you even get a laminator? Aren’t they expensive?”

“Yes, and no. Mostly government offices, but sometimes schools have them for documents or art projects. Why kid, you figuring on forging some IDs?” 

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “sometimes I want to be someone else. You know - live in a fancy house...see all the big cities, like in the movies.”

Joey smiled, “yeah I have that dream sometimes, have a fancy car, like the ones they have at the auto show. Besides you are half way to being someone else – how many languages you know by now? Five?”

Danny counted them off on his fingers, “Six - English, French, Spanish, Italian, Chinese, and Swahili.”

“Swahili? What the hell?”

“The dietician at school. Her parents were radicals in the 60s. She says you need to have different languages for a different perspective. She gives me extra cookies when I ace a test.”

Joey laughed. “Well, don’t go messing with IDs just yet. You start moving in on the Fake ID market you will get yourself in trouble. Vinnie over at Consetta’s makes the fake IDs in this neighborhood. He might take exception to you pushing in on his territory.”

Danny made a note to check out Consetta’s market and the school office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well if you are going to copy ID's you better know what to avoid.   
> Cannon ref: 2.13 Countermeasures


	12. Supplemental income - What happens when you get caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring Break allows Danny to explore more of the city.

Danny grimaced as his back impacted against the brick wall. He was disconcertingly aware of the individual bricks. Painfully so. He glanced up at the twenty something that had tossed him into the alley just in time to blink as he was backhanded to the ground. His mouth filled with the copper taste of blood and he chose to stay there. This turned out to be a bad decision as a converse clad shoe slammed into his stomach. The wind knocked out of him, he began to crawl away.

“Little shit. I’ll teach you to steal my wallet.” The shoe came again. Danny tried to curl into a ball. Hands grabbed his jacket and pulled him up. His feet were barely touching the ground. “You think you are so smart? Think I don’t know who you are? Little punk hanging out by Rizzo? Rizzo tell you to steal my wallet? You think it’s funny?” Each question was punctuated by slamming him back into the wall. Danny could feel the tears beginning to form. His head made contact with the wall every other question. He was back handed several times as he tried to deny the accusation. He could feel his right eye beginning to swell shut. Then the hands were gone and he slid to the ground. He covered his head and tried to make himself as small as possible. He could hear fighting, but couldn’t bring himself to look. 

The fighting noises stopped and he could hear yelling. He snuck a peek. Joey and Mickey had the guy against the far wall. Danny felt relief wash over him. 

“What kind of asshole beats up a fourth grader? You think this makes you a man? Asshole, beating up a little kid? The girls are going to be impressed over that one.” The conversation seemed to be going in his favor so he didn’t want to point out he was in fifth grade. 

After a few forcefully made points, Joey let the guy go. He staggered a bit and then got his feet back under him. He had a parting promise. “Tell the little jerk he tries something like that again, I’ll break his fingers.” Joey made a move to go after him, but Mickey stopped him. They walked over and picked Danny up, brushing him off.

“What the hell you doing over here? Why aren’t you in school?” 

“Spring break, decided to explore. Wanted to check out Consetta’s market.”

“That worked out well for you.”

“Not as much as I hoped.”

“Boy are you going to have a shiner. What made you try a bone headed stunt like lifting his wallet?” asked Joey. 

“Better yet, how’d you get caught? I thought you were pretty good at lifting?” put in Mickey. Joey did a double take.

“You lifting kid? You that stupid?” He was clearly angry and started to shake Danny. Mickey put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. 

“He doesn’t do it much. Cut him some slack, he’s looking after his mother. Widow’s pension doesn’t go far.” Danny was startled one that Mickey knew what he was doing and two that he chose to do nothing about it. Mickey smiled. “Not much going on in the neighborhood I don’t know about kid. Keep that in mind. Everybody has a territory and we all know who doesn’t belong. You are lucky it was a low level punk that you hit on. Don’t worry, he won’t come after you. Word on the street travels faster than the Mississippi in March. He doesn’t get points for beating up a kid.”

Danny nodded and winced, rolling his shoulders to work out the bricks he thought were still there. “It got stuck and I ended up using my thumb on the second pass.”

“Two fingers kid, two fingers.” Danny nodded. Joey looked disgusted. 

“Come on kid. Let’s get some ice on that eye. Face like that, you are better off running and keeping your smile for the ladies.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Track team starts practice next week.”

"Buono ragazzo Danny. Buono ragazzo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback always welcome


	13. The here and now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Danny missing Ellen is forced to acknowledge she misses her old life. And then of course there was the marshal...

Ellen rolled her eyes at the items laid out on the table, muttering softly. She picked her way through them again, examining each of them in turn. She had come as soon as she got the call that Danny didn’t come home last night. Danny was missing. That shook her to the core and made her stomach clench. And she was a seasoned police veteran, not some suburban wallflower. Frustration gnawed at her. She wanted to be doing something, anything. Anything but just sitting there. She knew the outcome realities of missing children. For a while as a rookie her desk sergeant had her on notification duty. Notifying the next of kin was a sobering experience. She hate the job even knowing it was short term and something all rookies took a rotation doing. In her eyes the crime was only half over at that point. Notification didn't move towards a resolution, it was just another necessary task before you could go back to the hunt for the criminal. 

She admitted that she felt a void in her life, missed the hunt, the chase and the collaring of a criminal. The life of a detective. She forced herself to acknowledged the sacrifice of her career for the boy's safety. Once addicted to the thrill of the chase, she accepted the role of protector. Refocus she chided herself. This is the here and now. This was Danny. Her job dealing with security arrangements and recovery for an insurance company kept her closeted behind a desk most of the time. White collar prevention. Clean sanitized crime. Boring.

The police took the missus’ statement and Ellen made sure that she ate something and took her medication. After hours of waiting, she was able to encourage her to try to rest. Finally she was sleeping. 36 hours missing and they still had no word. Ellen was amazed that someone so clinically depressed, who could fall asleep nearly in mid-sentence would be so keyed up. But then, it was her son. Faced with an apartment that was too quiet Ellen searched for answers as to where he possibly could have gone. That was when she noticed the board under the radiator that was slightly ajar. 

Everything needed to make bus passes. Card stock, specialty ink, samples of bus passes, some even laminated. Really nice ones. If she hadn’t stumbled on the stash she would never have looked twice, never questioned the pass for authenticity. Where in the hell had he gotten this stuff? A roll of cash. Good lord, how had he come up with this idea? Maybe it was time to curtail his pool hall meanderings. She couldn’t imagine that they would get a child wrapped up in this type of stuff. This wasn’t a Dickens’ tale. Then despite her best efforts the song got stuck in her head and she started to hum it under her breath. “…You’ve got to pick a pocket or two boys…” 

Knowing Danny and his attachment to his mother she knew he wasn’t just another weekend runaway. Well liked at school, good grades, involved in sports both in and outside of school. Community activities. Well, mostly theater and art. No, there was nothing to suggest a motive to run away. Then again… she mused looking back at the table he may have created his own motive inadvertently. She wondered what would keep an 11 year boy away from home overnight. It was spring and getting warmer, but it had rained last night. 

The social worker was still sitting in the living room. Ellen ignored her, not having the patience for someone lacking the backstory of her life. She heard the front door open and recognized the voice of the marshal. 36 hours and now he shows up? She quickly gathered the items and scooped them back into the shoe box she had found them in. She placed the shoe box on the floor next to the kitchen sink and used her foot to nudge it back into the corner next to the wall. By the time the marshal had gotten to the kitchen she was making tea. She turned on him with sarcastic eyes and an unspoken, “well? “on her face.  
~  
Marshal James Baxter entered the kitchen feeling very smug. The entire world was on fire looking for the kid and he had the answers. He had called off the search and sent the social worker packing. Now, being able to get a one up on Parker - that was making his day. He found her to be an over educated consumer making his job both easier and harder. Before she could say a word he walked over to the pantry door and swung it open. Ellen, wondering what she was supposed to be noticing, stared into the small room. Shelves and a counter on one side with the refrigerator on the other. Baxter leaned up against the doorway his arms crossed and a smile on his face. He waited until he saw her chest swell as she prepared to launch a rant at him and then swung his arm out finger pointing at the calendar. She focused on the red circle and the accompanying text. 

Boy Scout Bridging weekend camp out in Ozarks

Cannon references:  
1.3 Book of hours: Weren’t you ever a boy scout?  
4.4 Parting shots: Forging bus passes  
2.3 Copycat Caffrey: Neal provides details on how to pick a pocket


End file.
